Dying Embers
by vrasarawynguldureth
Summary: "Take warning when crossing paths with a dark elf. " She must ensure that the line of Durin is destroyed by killing Thorin and his two nephews, Fili and Kili. That is her mission. If she succeeds, she fulfills her mothers oath. Before the darkness takes her soul, will she learn the truth? Can you rekindle the dying embers before the Darkness consumes one's soul?
1. Prologue

Nandor who lived in the east mixed blood with the Avari who came westwards. As the Second Age went on, the blood became even more mixed. Even their language changed from Nandorin to Sindarin. Born in the second age, Arawyn still spoke Nandorin and some Sindarin. Lived in Eregion after mother moved west and married father in Eregion. The Elves of Eregion lived in harmony with a Dwarven civilization, trading freely with the their kingdom of Khazad-dûm, or Hadhodrond in the Elven tongue. Eregion was populated by Noldor, and for a while ruled by Galadriel and Celeborn, until they left for Lothlórien on the other side of the Misty Mountains. It was then ruled by Celebrimbor, a descendant of Fëanor. Under his rule the Elves of Eregion became friends with Annatar, Lord of Gifts, and created the Rings of Power. When Annatar was revealed as the Dark Lord Sauron the Elves of Eregion tried to keep the Rings from falling in Sauron's hands, but only managed to rescue Vilya, Narya, and Nenya (the Three Rings of the Elves). Sauron returned to Hollin with a vengeance in S.A. 1697, and despite the assistance of the Dwarves, he utterly destroyed it, the survivors fleeing to Lindon, Lothlórien, and the refuge of Imladris (Rivendell).

The Nandor, now known in their impure state as Tawarwaith, were soon pushed into refuge when Sauron rose to challenge elven power in Middle-earth. Some were forced to take refuge with the Noldor, who although weakened were still very powerful, in Lindon and Imladris.

Angered by his failure, Sauron tried to gather the rings back to him. He succeed in finding two, while four others were swallowed or destroyed by Dragons. The third ring Sauron is to be obtained (was taken from Thráin II in T.A. 2845 while he was imprisoned by Sauron in the dungeons of Dol Guldur) by using Arawyn as an assassin to retrieve the ring from Thorin II and destroy the Line of Durin to ensure there are no dwarvish strongholds east of the Misty Mountains. Gandalf arrived too late to save Thráin and only got the key and Thór's map to the secret entrance of the Lonely Mountain. The ring is either lost or hidden in Erebor under the watch of Smaug.

During the fall of Eregion, Astordir and Mercanis are killed. Mercanis is unable to fulfill her oath, unknown to her husband and daughters. Arawyn and Bregoliel are taken alive to Sauron, but then separated. Sauron asked for her name. She spoke, "Arawyn daughter of Astordir Goreth and Mercanis Guldir". But quickly started asking questions of her own.

_Ma istanyel? Man cárat? Man carnet? Manna Bregoliel? _(Do I know you? What are you doing? What did you do? Where is Bregoliel?)

He asked where her mother was and told him, "_Eca, a mitta lambetya cendelessë orcova!_" (to go French kiss an orc) He threatended to kill her sister if she did not comply to come under the Dark Lord and fulfill her mother's oath to serve him. Seething with anger she accepted but only for her sister. She is trained as an assassin like her mother and learns Black Speech in Mordor. Then she is sent to live in the Withered Heath in the Grey Mountains and there she creates a loyal bond with a dragon, Hellrune.

She is an adult dragon. She has black scales, bone spikes on her back and red eyes. She is an _Urulokë_ or fire-drake (An unnamed dragon appears in Hobbit verse, said to have had red eyes, black wings and teeth like knives). She is driven by a love of power. Her ability to work necromantic magic is powerful and dangerous.

And finally Arawyn is sent to meet the Necromancer in Dol Guldor. There she is told of the Dark Lord's plan and how he need's the last dwarf lord ring that currently belongs to Thorin son of Thrain. She changes her name to Arawyn Guldereth which roughly translated to 'noble maiden of darkness'. She knows that Thorin does not trust the elves and will notice her elvish pointed ears. In turn, the Necromancer crudely cuts the pointed tips off and roughly cordorizes the wounds. If anyone asks, he said, "You were attacked and tortured by a band of rogue orcs for their sick pleasure and then released". She is then told to kidnap Roäc and return him to Thorin as a ploy to gain access to the kingdom. She must ensure that the line of Durin is destroyed by killing Thorin and his two nephews, Fili and Kili. That is her mission. If she succeeds, she fulfills her mothers oath and becomes Khamûl who was one of the nine Ringwraiths, second only to the Witch-king himself. (Also known as Sauron's lieutenant, "Shadow of the East", and "the Second Chief" or "the Black Easterling") Little did she know her sister was dead. Before the darkness takes her soul, will she learn the truth? Can you rekindle the dying embers before the Darkness consumes one's soul?


	2. From the Ashes I Awaken

The air was crisp and biting as a gust of wind forced the lone traveler to wrap her dark cloak closer to her small, lithe frame. Winter was quickly approaching for one could not only feel but inhale the fresh needles of the pine trees that grew beneath the shadow of the mountains. Only the sound of her boots crunching fallen leaves could be heard as she traversed Hithaeglir or the Misty Mountains in Westron. She let her feet guide her almost aimlessly until she came upon a painful memory. Any traveler would have walked through the moss covered stones and stepped over the tree roots that seemed to hold what was left of a great kingdom.

"Eregion" the words just above a whisper on her lips.

The Elves of Eregion lived in harmony with a Dwarven civilization, trading freely with the their kingdom of Khazad-dûm, or Hadhodrond in the Elven tongue. Eregion was populated by Noldor, and for a while ruled by Galadriel and Celeborn, until they left for Lothlórien on the other side of the Misty Mountains. It was then ruled by Celebrimbor, a descendant of Fëanor. Under his rule the Elves of Eregion became friends with Annatar, Lord of Gifts, and created the Rings of Power. When Annatar was revealed as the Dark Lord Sauron the Elves of Eregion tried to keep the Rings from falling in Sauron's hands, but only managed to rescue Vilya, Narya, and Nenya (the Three Rings of the Elves). Sauron returned to Hollin with a vengeance in 1697, and despite the assistance of the Dwarves, he utterly destroyed it, the survivors fleeing to Lindon, Lothlórien, and the refuge of Imladris (Rivendell).

She could still see fire all around her, as her home and her people perished into ashes carried on the wind. The smell of burning flesh forever engraved in her mind. But one image burned more than the others. Who she lost that fateful day. "_Naneth ada adar_" The air seemed to get heavier with the thought of her parents who have passed into the Gray Havens, or at least she likes to hold onto that shred of hope. As she walked along a ruined stone wall, she could see the brook where her father taught her how to fish. His name was Astordir Goreth, a Nandor from the Misty Mountains. In Eregion, he was a talented farrier who worked in harmony with the dwarves at the kingdom's forge. Other females elves were taught not to take part in such occupations. But that never stopped her from working with her father. She learned not only to craft fine weaponry but repair it as well. Bregoliel, her younger sister, would accompany her on almost all her missions. Her "_tithen dae_" or "little shadow". Their bond was deeper than their blood. Their friendship and loyalty to one another could not be put in words other than they would stay true to one another till the end of time. Both became skilled archers but were also skilled in axe wielding and knife throwing. This is how they spent their time together. Away from the other dwarf and elven children. This wasn't by choice.

"Ara," Bregoliel asked as she skipped a flat stone across the brook, rippling the surface, "why don't the other children play with us?" She turned to me now fully as I stared at the ripples diminishing. "Because they fear fierce warriors like us _niniell_. Especially the boys." A small smile tugged on her lips and she nodded.

The reason was deeper than that of being a strong, fierce female warrior. The reason was a thick as blood and as harsh as malicious whispers. Bregoliel and she were of mixed blood. Impure by elvish standards and feared by dwarven. For her mother was an Avari, a dark elf.

The Avari were a branch of Elves that refused to make the Great Journey. Initially the Avari stayed in Cuiviénen but many of them started to wander westwards. The Avari who finally went westwards, were mingled with the Nandor of the Vales of Anduin, Eriador and some reached Beleriand, mingling with the Laiquendi. But very few settled in Doriath. The Avari who came from the Tatyar were unfriendly and jealous to the Noldor, their exalted kin, and accused them for arrogance.

The Nandor on both sides of the mountain range were of a somewhat less pure strain, those in Ossiriand having mixed blood with some Sindar, and those in the east having mixed blood with the Avari who came westwards. As the Second Age went on, the blood became even more mixed. Even their language changed from Nandorin to Sindarin. Gradually, the Nandor were changing into what became known as Silvan Elves or Tawarwaith, meaning "Forest People".

Their mother was true to how the Avari were described. She was motherly when she needed to be. Otherwise, she was a fierce warrior that rarely smiled. Only her father could make her smile and laugh. And when she laughed, it was light and lyrical. But the townfolk treated her as though she was some sort of _curuni_ or witch. They spoke in hushed whispered how she would spend hours in the forest away from the town and perform dark magic even necromancy. Arawyn laughed this harsh rumors off and even got into a few scuffles defending her mother's reputation. She had the scars to prove it. "_Nardol_" her father called her when she came home trapsing mud on her boots and blood on her face. "I do not fear death," she spoke with conviction as her father tended the cuts, "just a life without something to live for." Her father shook his head, smiling. So much like her mother he thought. "I live for you Naneth. And Niniell. And Adar. My will to live for you is a strong as my will to die for you." But would she regret those words.

Mercanis Guldir was hardly a witch or any of those things for that matter. Or so she thought.

"Arawyn" her mother called. Arawyn looked up from sparring with her sister. "_Aphada_" and Mercanis turned and walked into the woods like she always did. Confused, she followed her mother's foot steps. Her mother was solitary when it came to the time she spent alone in the woods. Never had she asked her daughters to accompany her. They walked in silence for quite sometime until they reached a small clearing the woods. Mercanis turned toward her daughter and told her that it was time that she learned the way of her ancestors. "What way?" Arawyn stared blankly. "It I cannot continue on my path, you must finish it for me _Nardol_." Her mother then extended her hand for her daughter to take which she did without hesistation. Before Arawyn could question further, Mercanis addressed her daughter's questions before she could she could ask. "The rumors are true." At this, Arawyn's jaw slackened in shock, her lips slightly parted. "I am _curuni_ and the people have reason to fear me and you for that matter." "Me? Why would they fear me anymore for the fact that I am dirty-blooded." For those words, Mercanis delivered a swift slap that resonated off boulders scattered amongst the trees. "Do not dare say those words! You are not of dirty blood! You should take pride in being a pure blooded Avari!" "How can I be of pure blood _Adar_ if _Naneth_ is Nandorian?" she asked as blood trickled into her mouth from her split lip. Absentmindly, she sucked her split lip between her teeth, so used to blood that she enjoyed the taste of it whether it was hers or that of another.

"I was with child when I met and married your father" Mercanis watched her daughter, inwardly smiling at her enjoying the taste of blood. Like mother like daughter she thought. "Who is my real father then?" Arawyn spat, the words stabbing her heart for she always felt that she was daddy's little girl when her mother rarely showed affection. "Another elf that held the same belief and practices as me" she said with a smile, recalling the times they spent away from their proper training until her master found out and had him killed. "So a dark elf then who practices dark Magick? Well I refuse to do such things and be anything like you. I rather be a foul smelling dwarf" Arawyn told her with her hands firmly planted on her hips in defiance. "Ha child. For you have no choice. You are my next of kin if I am to fall and must continue my oath to serve." "What oath?" she asked her hands slipped from their position. "You will know that in time. But for now, we must start your training. First, you must bare the mark." "What mark?" Mercanis stepped slightly back from Arawyn and rolled up her sleeve and presented her right wrist. "The mark is drawn upon your dominant wrist, the hand that will carry out the incantations, spells and powers." Spells and powers? Arawyn was at a loss for words. The world she knew was crumbling and eroding, for her life was a lie. "Give me your wrist. I assume it will be your right wrist since you are an archer." She stared, nodded and slowly out stretched her hand. "This must never be shown to anyone." Arawyn paused her hand, "What about Bregoliel?" They never kept secrets from one another. "No. No one must see. This is between us and the servants of darkness. Understood? If your sister knew, she could be killed." Pain flashed across her eyes at the thought of her sister hurt in any matter. "Do you swear to take this oath if I should fail?" She asked as she grasped her daughter's wrist. With no choice in her mind, Arawyn swore to any means to protect her sister from the pain of death as long she drew breath.

"Good," then Mercanis began a incantation in an unknown language which she later learned was the language of Mordor. Arawyn gasped as white pain flooded her body, the most painful place being her wrist. It felt as though a fire had been ignited in the deepest corners of her soul, engulfing her and turning her to ash. Unable to withstand the pain any longer, her knees buckled beneath her as she collapsed to ground. Her mother released her wrist and smell of singed flesh lingered in the heavy air. All that could be heard was the cadence of Arawyn's panting breaths punctuated by quiet whimpers. When she peered down at her wrist, she saw a tattoo of a black circle filled with symbols she had yet to learn. "Rise" her mother spoke firmly. Arawyn felt new strength flow through her body after her moment of weakness. It was as though her body was being compelled by an unknown force that was now residing in her. No longer did she feel pain but as though she risen from the ashes like a fire bird of legend. "Now the training can begin."

* * *

For many years after that, Arawyn followed her mother into the woods and trained and practiced the dark arts of her ancestors and necromancy. In the time she spent with her mother, she had successfully resurrected any once living creature her mother presented to her even that of a child. Bregoliel asked her on numerous occassions where she went and why but all she could tell her sister was to trust her for that she always protect her until her last breath left this plane of existence. And Bregoliel accepted this. Why? Because Arawyn was her sister and loyal friend that could never fail her and she always stayed true to her word.

But Arawyn world came crashing down not long after. During the fall of Eregion, Astordir and Mercanis are killed. Her father told her to run and protect her sister. And she did as she was told. They managed to make it to the brook before they were overcome by orcs who towered over their small forms. Cornered, they drew the dual Elven blades that they crafted at their father's forge. Arawyn turned and looked into her sister's saphire eyes and saw a slight twinge of fear. Sparring can only give you so much confidence until you are staring down the blade of your enemy in the heat of battle. Bregoliel saw no fear in her sister's amber eyes. They seemed to possess a fierceness and fearlessness greater than before. Arawyn gave her a slight nod, signaling that she would defend her and whispered "_Al Hond Ebrath, Uol Tath Shantar En Tath Lalala Ol Hond Ebrath_" which washed away the fear in Bregoliel. "_Elegard Aquilar_!" they shouted in unison and duelled to what they thought was their death. Blades clashed and blood flowed around their feet. Bregolial became slightly overcome by orcs and slipped in a pool of blood. "_Niniell_!" Arawyn shouted turning to her sister in time to see an orc pierce her leather armor bodice with ease. Arawyn could only see anger, pure seething anger. As the orc extracted the blade roughly with a sickening squelch to raise it above it's head to deliver the final blow, Arawyn hacked through it's body, cleaning decapitating its hideous form and dicing his remaining form until it was unrecognizable. She dropped down to her sister's side, "Bre,_ tithen dae_, _niniell_" she spoke quickly and breathlessly. Bregoliel could only gasp and sputter blood. Arawyn firmly put pressure on her wound. "Please, do not go where I cannot follow. Not yet."

A growl from behind drew her attention away from her sister and to an orc with it's scimitar raised. She in turn raised her blade in time to deflect to oncoming attack and swiftly dispatch the filth. As she turned back to her sister, her wrist was grabbed. She turned and swung at the perpetrator only to be disarmed. She quickly reached for her dagger in her boot only to feel cold steel hungerly nipping her bare throat. She looked up at the man finally. He appeared to be an Easterling by his kohl lined eyes, fierce gaze and armor that looked like in had been made from the spines of a dragon. She then noticed that his gaze was trained not upon her but her exposed right wrist. "**Nadal**" he spoke Black speech to the orcs about to finish off Bregoliel. He held her wrist higher to show them. "She bares the mark. **Shatraug**, **Par-vadokunaur**. We take her with us, alive." The orc pointed to Bregoliel and asked, "what about this **shemator kurv**?" "Take both of them alive, I doubt the light-eyed one has much breath in her left." To this they laughed. Never had Arawyn heard such grating and malicious cackling and hoped she never would again. The Easterling asked for rope and proceeded to tie Arawyn wrists and bound them quite well that she could barely move them. They repeated the same actions with her sister who was starting to pale from the bloodloss. Another Easterling gathered her weapons for her sister's were no where to be seen.

"_Niniell_" She whispered to her sister "_Amin mela lle ada amin khiluva lle a' gurtha ar' thar._" Her sister weakly nodded and soon they were carried off into the unknown, not knowing the future that now lay ahead of them. Arawyn looked over her shoulder one last time and saw the only world she thought she knew burn and become ash in the wind.

The memories were still painful and still weighed on her. She had not expected to travel past the ruins of Eregion but maybe fate had other plans for her. Taking in a deep breath and one final look, she carried on with her true mission. To find Roac and deliver him to Prince Thorin, soon to be "King under the mountain." But not while she had an oath to fulfill and ensure the safety of her sister. The line of Durin will be easily broken.


	3. Do You Trust Me?

Arawyn continued traveling north, making her way toward the High Pass that cuts through the Misty Mountains near Imladris. She knew to avoid the elves there because they would not welcome Tawarwaith or those of impure blood. And she never truly associated herself with elves with their purely green diet and dainty pacifist morals. She was raised in Eregion beneath the mountains where one hunted for food and survived attacks from mountain men and rogues simply seeking to pinch whatever coin they could get their hands on but some of the mountain men were not so kind and women, both elves and dwarves, were taught to live by the blade.

The path she still knew by heart had since been overgrown by established tree roots. She found solace walking the worn road, feeling the gentle warm of the sun as the light shimmered between the canopies of trees. Dusk was upon her and she did her best to find her way in the last hours of the day before nightfall. Soon she came across a small clearing. It amazed her in nearly an age it had not changed. A small uneven rock circle was used as a fire pit while a rock over hang provided some shelter if it were to rain. Her _naneth_ took her on hunting trips here along with another elf and his son and a dwarf and his son. The youths mocked her that no hunting trip was a place for a woman to be. For her, she was never enough. Always proving herself to the world. But she would get her chance to stop the doubts once and for all.

Early one winter morning, Arawyn headed into Bree with her father and their companions. For their return trip home, they need provisions and they headed to a cheap trader in town. All the while the youths continued to mock her for they had managed to catch a little more than a brace of conies while she was unsuccessful.

"_Naneth_?" Arawyn asked gently tugging on his coat to draw his attention. "Yes _Nardol_?" he couldn't help but smile at his daughter. She had reached her full height but stood no taller than a dwarf. She convinced herself that she had yet to grow but her father shook his head at her stubbornness. Her amber brown eyes were alight with determination and conviction, "May I please explore while we wait? I'll be careful _Naneth_. And remember I most likely older than the oldest man here." She smiled and her father knelt down on his haunches to tuck a strand of her golden brown tresses behind her ear, "Yes you may. But remember be careful and don't meddle in anyone elses business." "I promise _Naneth_" she smiled and ran off just past the outskirts of Bree.

She slowed her pace and simply enjoyed her surroundings. Here the trees did not grow so tall but instead grew wide and far apart. The branches bowed so low to the ground that they enveloped the tree, creating a world within a world. Parting the curtain of leaves, she continued to aimlessly wander the forest but never straying too far from the marked path. Her silent reverie of songbirds and babbling brooks was shattered by a howling scream.

Instinct overrode her well-being as she ran toward the source of the sound. More often than not, it was the finally cries of a fell beast in the clutches of a hunter's snare. Taking lighter steps, she stalked onward. Drawing her blades to deliver a swift death to the poor creature, the sight before her was far from what she could have possibly imagined.

It was definitely larger than a coney or even a boar. She quietly took a position in a thicket and surveyed the scene before her. What appeared to be a young child, no doubt around her height, with his leg caught in a hunter's snare. Before she could even react to cut the boy free, her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Three grown men, the tallest from the race of Men she had ever seen, slowly circled the boy and if corning their prey before delivering the final blow.

"Well now, thought you could escape did ya? We paid a pretty enough price for ya and here you go running off before we even had our fun yet" the oldest man leered at the boy.

Paid? Who pays for a child? Arawyn thought this to be striking behavior until she remembered what the elder dwarf had said about slavers who would even prey upon the innocents for their deviate pleasures. _Ed' i'ear ar' elenea_! She now realized the men's intent toward the boy.

The child whimpered as the men circled closer. His dark eyes glassy, tears threatening to spill over, "P-please" he begged "j-just l-let me go. I-I won't say anything, p-please" "Shut up dwarf scum" another man growled, delivering a swift kick to the boy's ribs. The dwarf let out a high-pitched scream as he turned in on himself, holding his now bruised ribs. The older man spoke again over the child's mewling, "I would say cut him out, but he'll put up less of a fight now, won't he boys. Oi, John, put a gag on 'im, and Will pin 'is arms down" The dwarf watched in absolute horror as the older man started to unbuckle his belt. This gave him new-found strength to fight back again. They would have to kill before they tried to defile him. As John went to put the gag in, the dwarf bit his hand. John howled in pain and in his fury repeated punched the child in the face, successfully splitting his lip. "John! Try not to kill him yet and don't spoil that mouth of his, it still may serve a purpose" he sneered. The dwarf groaned and whimpered weakly, darkness creeping in on the edges of his vision, his head so foggy, he barely registered his surroundings.

Arawyn could no longer sit idly watching them defile a poor dwarfling. Rising from her haunches, she spun her dueling blades and shouted out a battle cry of her ancestors, "_Gurth gothrimlye_!" and proceeded to cut down the men. John and William were the easiest to dispatch considering they were preoccupied with the dwarfling and could not defend themselves in time. But the oldest proved to be quite the adversary. Clouds of dust erupted as they danced, her two dueling blades against his solitary broad sword. She ducked and tumbled, maintaining eye contact with her foe as sparks flew off the blades sharp and sudden contact. Soon the dust settled, a slain head rolled out of the cloud. The dwarfling watched in fear as the head was kicked aside and the victor made their way toward him. He couldn't make out their face because as the dust picked up in the heat of battle, both opponents wrapped their scarves around their faces to cover their noses from inhaling the dust.

The dwarf felt eyes upon his prone form and looked up into glowing ember amber eyes of what appeared to be an elf. With no defense, all he could do was scoot backwards until the snare's small spikes sunk in deeper as the rope tightened. He cried out in agony, reaching down to free himself and continued to cut his fingers on the snare. If he struggled anymore, he would surely snap his ankle bone in half. "Stop" she spoke quickly. He paused his bloodied fingers and looked at her with brown glassy tear filled eyes. "Please, you'll hurt yourself more. Let me help you" "I don't trust elves" he spoke confidently, voice barely wavering but the fear in his eyes betrayed him.

Arawyn placed her blades in their sheaths and knelt before him, "I don't think you're in a position to question help that is offered to you in a time of need. And if I wanted to kill you, I would have. I could have just let those men have their way" She wasn't completely unarmed, she had her knives tucked on her person in various places. "Do you trust me?" she asked gently. He looked at her still defiantly but the pain was quickly overcoming him in another wave. "O-okay" She gave him a small smile and unsheathed a small blade from her boot and made quick work of the rope. But slowly and with delicate ease, she extracted the blades. He did his best to hold in his sobs, gritting his teeth as she removed them. The dwarf gave a half-hearted glare, pain winning over again.

"There," as she removed the last spike, "can you walk?" "What do you think?" he snapped. "Fine, let's see you then?" she crossed her arms and took a step back. He barely made it up on one leg when he buckled and just barely face planted had it not been for the strong grip on his upper arm. "I guess not" he kept his eyes downcast, shame and frustration reddening his cheeks. "In time. Come on, I'll bring you to my father and our campsite where I can tend to your wounds better." He didn't look up but nodded slowly, giving into this elf's demands. Once she steadied him on his feet, she let go so she could bend down in front of him. "W-what are you doing?" he asked slightly frightened. "I'm carrying you little one" Arawyn stated simply, reaching a hand back to guide him. "I am not little, if anything you're short for an elf." "Careful what you say boy, I may just trip and catch myself and watch you fall." The dwarfling loudly shut his mouth and took the offered hand. Standing to her full height, she wrapped her arms underneath his legs, and walked, never realizing that dwarves were heavier than they looked.

"So _mellonamin aier_, are you alright?" she asked in a concerned voice. "Y-yes, still hurts though" "Well we have some healing salves back at camp" she reassured. Soon, the forest was behind them and they reentered the city. Up ahead on the path, she saw her father and the elder dwarf joined by a couple of dwarves she had never seen before. "_Naneth_! _Naneth_!" she called to get his attention. All heads turned at the sound of her voice. "_Flaklak_!" they shouted and immediately pulled him from her back. They baraged him with questions, "Are you alright? Oh Mahal you're alive." Not wanting to linger anymore, they took the dwarfling to their inn to be treated. For the dwarfling infection had already established itself and his companions kept vigil for three nights. But what shocked the dwarves was the elf. Ararwyn saved him and she wanted to see his recovery through.

When the fever broke, Arawyn was there by his side, "How do you feel?" "Been better. You...You're...you're the one that saved me. Thank you. I am forever in your debt and at your service" She hushed him, "There is no need Master Dwarf-" "Kili" he interrupted her. "What?" she asked. "Kili. My name is Kili." he gave her a lopsided grin. "_Saesa omentien llle_. _Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo_" His face of confusion only brought a smile to hers, "A pleasure to meet you" "That was long-winded for a simple saying" Both couldn't help but laugh aloud at Kili's joke. A knock on the door brought them out their moment.

"_Naneth_" Arawyn smiled at her father. "Arawyn we need to return home now. We have all the supplies." A small oh crossed her lips as the corners formed a frown. She turned her attention to Kili, "Maybe we'll meet again someday. _Quel esta_." She turned to leave only to be stopped by Kili, "wait, before you leave, I want to give you something. To show my gratitude, please?" Smiling and giving a gentle nod, she followed his gesture to sit on the bed. She felt the bed shift as Kili was careful not to jostle his injured ankle. Kili reached up and carded his small fingers through her soft golden brown hair. Picking out three small even sections, he began to braid her hair. He did his best to remember the pattern his brother had just taught him.

"There" Kili was proud of his small braid that he clasped with one of his wooded beads that his mother had given him but refused to wear. He wasn't old enough to wear silver ones yet. Kili reached for Arawyn's hand and guided it back so she could feel the his handy work. "It's lovely. Thank you" "It's a friendship braid. As long as you have that braid we are friends." He smiled. "Shouldn't I do the same for you _mellonamin_?" She turned, tucking a strand of his unruly brown locks behind his ear. "_Nardol_, we must leave" her father urged. "The next time we meet, I will return the favor and braid your hair." giving him a hopeful smile, she drew him into her arms where he clung tightly. When she pulled away, his eyes were glassy. "I will not tell you not to cry little one, for not all tears are evil. Promise me that you will return this," she leaned in, tying a leather corded necklace with a dragon tooth pendant her father made her, giving him a light kiss on the cheek, "when we meet again" "I promise" Kili smiled, a few tears escaping. Taking her leave, she stopped in the doorway one last time and smiled and waved, "_Namarie mellonim, Tenna'ento lye omenta_."

* * *

The crackling of the fire brought her from her thoughts. Grabbing a stick, she poked the dying embers, trying to spark some life in them before they completely turned to ash. When she maintained a faded glow, she unfurled her blanket beneath the rock outcropping. She would have to wait until the break of day to make for the High Pass. Durin's Day was quickly approaching and she was running out of time.


End file.
